Daydream Confessions
by Psi Fi
Summary: Post-The Five Doctors, the Master tries to drown his disappointment in brandy and an innocent daydream.  An unexpected conversation takes place. This story contains slash.


Author's note: This story is the result of a meme on Livejournal, where I was asked to write comment fic featuring Eloquent!Ainley!Master and Dorky!Koschei.

The Master sat at the bar of a rather upscale, drinking establishment. A glass of very good brandy sat in front of him. It was his seventh brandy, so far, and he had shut down the mechanism in his body that kept him from getting drunk. He wanted to be intoxicated and felt he was making a rather good job of it. The bartender apparently thought so too. The first four brandies had been excellent, not merely very good.

Excellent, very good, or very bad, the brandies were doing their job and the Master was more relaxed, though no more cheerful, than he had been, when he came in. He decided to let himself daydream a bit, so he used his imagination and telepathy to create a sort of dreamscape inside his mind. He reconstructed the bar, almost exactly as it really was, but filled it with more, livelier people. It was a Wednesday, actually, and things were a bit too slow. The Master decided, in his daydream, to make it a Friday.

The Master had intended to have the Doctor show up in his daydream, so he was a bit surprised to find his younger self sitting next to him instead. Koschei, looking the Earth equivalent of sixteen, was sitting on a stool next to the Master and wearing his school robes, orange and collarless, with a badge that proclaimed his family's House. The Master stared at this apparition with distaste.

"You're quite drunk," Koschei observed, sounding sad.

"You're dead, so go rot," the Master snarled.

The boy had the nerve to laugh at him.

"What an intelligent, genteel thing to say!" he mocked.

"Why are you here? I don't want you here. I want to forget you ever existed!"

"Well, you're doing a damn fine job of that!" Koschei retorted. "You seem to have forgotten a lot of important things!"

"Oh, have I? What might those things be?"

"Theta. You've forgotten how much we love Theta," Koschei complained.

"Theta Sigma," the Master scorned. "He's just as dead as you. We aren't those boys anymore."

"Names don't matter..." Koschei began earnestly.

"Names are everything," the Master denied, glaring. "I am the Master. I was once you, but you died, when I came into being, the same as Tremas died, when I took this body."

Koschei shook his head.

"I won't be your victim. You've torn my future to shreds, made me hated. You're keeping me from Theta Sigma!"

"Theta Sigma, what's left of him, doesn't want you anymore!" the Master proclaimed, cruelly, ignoring that the words stuck a knife of pain into his own gut.

Tears welled in the boy's eyes and he shook his head.

"That's not true. Thete loves me. Thete will always love me."

"Why was I ever so infatuated with him?" the Master wondered bitterly.

"Because he's wonderful," his younger self answered, in a dreamy tone unique to the deeply in love. "He's handsome, he's brilliant, he listens, he has the cleverest hands..."

"Rassilon's sake, spare me, boy! You've brains enough to see past such inane drivel!"

"It's not drivel! I love him and so do you! I know you do!" Koschei sulked.

"He left me to die, twice, in the Death Zone! He refused my help and stole the Seal of the High Council! No! Thete is dead. There is only the Doctor and he's our enemy. Get used to it, boy."

"I'd like to think our futures hold a bit more than that, really," a new voice responded.

The Master turned and rubbed blearily at his eyes. Theta Sigma, dressed similarly to Koschei, came walking up behind them, smiling. He came and stood between the two versions of his oldest friend, then turned and gave Koschei a quick kiss on the mouth.

"You're right," he told his schoolmate. "I've always loved you and always will."

"You shouldn't tell lies, Theta Sigma," the Master sneered.

"I'm not lying, Master," Theta argued.

"Really? You could have taken me with you. You chose to take the recall device and leave me to the Cybermen, instead. You left me to die. Where is the love in that?"

"I'm sorry," Theta offered softly and urgently. "I thought you were allied with them and weren't really in danger. I wouldn't have just left you to die. Master, you must believe me."

"It hardly matters, if I believe you or not. You aren't him. You're just a figment of my imagination, telling me what I want to hear! This daydream has gone terribly wrong," the Master mourned.

Theta Sigma sat on the stool with Koschei, who leaned into him with a happy sigh. Theta wrapped his arms around the other boy and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Maybe you should wake up, then," he replied gently.

"I think I shall," the Master agreed, with drunken dignity. "I'll wake up and leave the pair of you to molder in your broken dreams."

Theta just nodded, smiling enigmatically, an expression that left a sour taste in the Master's mouth. The Master gave a harsh mental tug, sending the dream spiraling into oblivion. He came to himself with a sharp jerk of his shoulders, then took a deep breath. Cursing in ancient Gallifreyan, he finished off the current glass of brandy.

"I'm really surprised you let yourself daydream like that in public. You left yourself terribly vulnerable, you know."

The Master whirled to his right, stunned. Sitting next to him, his hat on the bar, was the Doctor from his own timeline, his cricket outfit strangely suiting their surroundings. Studying his nemesis, the Master noted that there was a line of sweat at the Doctor's temple. Theta Sigma's presence in his daydream was now explained.

"You invaded my dream, without my sensing another's psychic presence? How very impressive. I must be drunker than I thought!" the Master observed.

"Seven brandies, while suppressing your metabolism? I'm impressed that you're still standing," the Doctor agreed.

"Why are you here, Doctor?" the Master sighed. "I'm not plotting anything that would interest you, unless you've decided to protect the bar's stock of alcohol."

"I wanted to find you. I didn't really trust Rassilon to simply let you go, you see. Also, I wanted to apologize. You were right. I didn't listen. I should have known you were telling the truth. Undisguised, you've never denied your intentions."

"You've never refused my help before," the Master pointed out, trying to keep his tone even and free of the hurt he felt.

"I know," the Doctor acknowledged, his voice still soft, but now with a hint of pleading. "Master...Koschei, please believe me. I honestly thought you were safe, when I left you behind. I wouldn't abandon you to be killed, truly!"

The Master studied his old friend and nodded, too full of drink and emotion to challenge the use of his old name.

"I suppose it really isn't the way you do things," he grudgingly allowed.

"Well," the Doctor began, sounding frustrated, "yes, that too, but, more importantly, I wouldn't do that to you!"

The Master simply stared at him, whatever eloquence he'd had used up for the moment. He sat, gazing at the man who had once been the boy he'd loved fiercely. The Doctor gazed back and for the first time in a long time, he saw Koschei staring out at him, his longing hidden behind the Master's fierce control.

The Doctor shivered, horrified that Koschei had been there all along and he hadn't seen it! Leaning forward, he gently placed his lips on the Master's, hoping to be welcomed, despite the Master's earlier anger. To his relief, the Master never even considered rejecting him, but placed a hand on the back of the Doctor's neck, holding him in place, as they began kissing in earnest. The Doctor placed his arms around the Master's shoulders, then pulled away and placed some money on the counter.

"Come with me," he urged, grabbing the Master's hand, then grinned. "I want to make love to you."

The Master let his metabolism kick in to burn off the alcohol, as he followed the Doctor to his TARDIS. Daydreams were all right, he decided, but reality was usually better, if you waited long enough. The Master had waited centuries, but his Theta had finally come back to him. 


End file.
